


cleanliness is next to godliness

by silkinsilence



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Background Widowtracer, Canon Autistic Character, F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 08:55:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7678051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silkinsilence/pseuds/silkinsilence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Satya finds herself quite amenable to fun in the shower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cleanliness is next to godliness

It doesn't take Satya very long to discover that she loves showering with Fareeha.

The first time, she's hesitant. However much they've been cleaned, the barracks showers are still, well, _communal._ She thinks of mold and germs and filth lurking beneath the facade of the shiny white tiles. She wears shoes to the shower and does her best to avoid touching the walls. She's a little embarrassed for Fareeha to pick up on her squeamishness, but mostly she just doesn't see the appeal.

Now, though, she thinks she understands it a little more.

Fareeha has pressed herself to the tile without needing to be asked. She pulls Satya flush against her skin, warm and wet and soft, and Satya can't resist letting her only hand—the prosthetic is supposedly waterproof, but she has forgone it just the same—go wandering over the muscle of her lover's thighs and biceps and stomach. Her falcon is beautiful like this, but then she's beautiful all the time, soaring above in her suit of royal blue, lifting weights with sweat dripping down her skin, relaxing and smiling over dinner.

"त्वामनुरजामि," Satya breathes. Fareeha can't understand the Sanskrit as it rolls from her tongue, but the grin she gives proves that she gets the gist. The skin around her eyes crinkles when she smiles, and Satya lifts a finger to trace the tattoo. Her painted nails find Fareeha's lips. For an instant the falcon becomes the jackal and bites playfully.

"Are you hungry?" Satya teases, withdrawing her hand.

"We haven't had breakfast," Fareeha points out. Her muscular arms reach around Satya's hips to pull her closer. She squeezes her ass. There is a warmth growing between Satya's thighs that has nothing to do with the spray of hot water, a warmth that only intensifies when Fareeha's teeth graze her earlobe and her lover whispers, low and husky, "And you know I'm always hungry for you."

Satya's giggle is lost into Fareeha's mouth when they kiss. Lips press together, tongue slides against tongue, and Satya is certain that there is no better way to start the day. Sex is...nice, especially with Fareeha, but it's also sticky and sweaty and pungent. Too often it's overwhelming. Satya always _hates_ the aftermath, lying in her own sweat, the heat of another person uncomfortable.

But the shower has easily solved a great many of those problems, and Satya's concerns about foul bacteria might as well have been washed down the drain. She traces the curve of Fareeha's hip, darts her hand lower to stroke her clit. Fareeha, already quite wet, moans into the kiss. Her hands tangle in Satya's hair and scratch along her scalp. She knows Satya loves that.

Satya fastens her teeth in Fareeha's lower lip and sucks. She's rewarded with a tumble of Arabic, probably swears, and Fareeha pulling them even closer together. Satya idly thinks that this will result in Winston giving the team a lecture on the importance of hot water conservation, but at the moment she couldn't care less.

Fareeha breaks the kiss. She trails gentle nips down Satya's jaw and neck, avoiding overwhelming her. Satya is hovering on the pleasurable edge between arousal and need.

"Turn around and close your eyes," Fareeha eventually says. After her questioning look is answered with a smile, Satya obeys. She's not scared, not when Fareeha is there.

Fareeha pulls them flush together, so that Satya can feel her lover's breasts soft against her back. Then there are soapy fingers traveling over her navel, caressing her ribs, her stomach, her chest. Fareeha plays with her nipples, kneads her breasts in her hands, gentle and steady and _wonderful._ Satya opens her mouth, but nothing comes out but a short breath; she's not particularly vocal.

There is more Arabic in her ear, somehow more arousing than everything else Fareeha is doing to her. For all Satya knows, her lover could be reciting telephone numbers, but in her voice it's enchanting. Satya leans her head back to feel Fareeha's breath on her neck. Her falcon accepts the invitation and bites at her neck with greater force this time.

Satya opens her eyes, but then the voice next to her ear whispers, "لأ," and she's picked up enough Arabic by now to let her eyelashes flutter closed again.

One hand, soap gone, darts between her legs. Satya bites her lips. Fareeha is careful and diligent in this as in all else, stroking and rubbing, gently tracing Satya's slit. Her fingers slip inside, the way made easy by the dampness.

The other hand returns to Satya's scalp and massages shampoo there. The sensations together are almost overwhelming, but not uncomfortably so. Satya lets herself go limp and sag back against Fareeha. Her mind is in the clouds.

A flick of her clit draws an unintentional little groan from Satya's lips. She opens her eyes in time to see Fareeha's pleased grin. Fareeha likes when she makes noise, and when she's making Satya feel so good anyway, she's eager to comply.

Another moan is just escaping her when the door to the showers bangs open. There's a giggle from outside their stall, followed by a purr of French. Satya bites down on her arm to prevent any more sound escaping her. Fareeha has gone stiff.

"Who's there?" she barks in her military voice.

"Er—Fareeha?" That's unmistakably Lena. "Uh, sorry, didn't think anyone else would be here this early."

"Well, we— _I_ am," Fareeha says, and Satya appreciates the probably-futile attempt to preserve her dignity.

"Then we will have to find somewhere more _private_ ," the smooth, French-accented voice responds. "Come, cherie."

Only when the door closes behind them does Satya feel comfortable sagging back against Fareeha once more.

Over breakfast, she finds it difficult to sit across from Lena and Amélie, both because of what she knows and what she suspects they also know.

But still, she finds herself eager to repeat the experience sometime soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Satya says "I love you" in Sanskrit. It's my headcanon that she has a working knowledge of Sanskrit. It's mostly used in religious ceremonies and literary works, and I like to think she would use it during sex. 
> 
> Fareeha just says "no" in Arabic.
> 
> I came across the Arabic chat alphabet while "researching" for this; fascinating stuff!
> 
> Comments always appreciated.


End file.
